The darkness was absolute.

Alexandra Bedford was at first unsure if she was awake or dreaming.

No, I’m awake. There was feeling, the cold sweat over her body and the ache in her neck and shoulders. But where…?

She lay on a firm mattress. A quiet hum came from all around. The noise was soothing, and she felt as if the mattress was floating in a calm pool of water. At first, she couldn’t move – a complete paralysis. Then slowly, feeling crept into her fingers and toes, hands and feet, and arms and legs. But as she tried to move, she felt the restraints. Straps held down her wrists and ankles while another ran across her stomach. A vice-like object applied locking pressure to the sides of her head just above her ears. She lay trapped and immobile.

“Is anyone there?” She meant to shout but the words came out as a hoarse whisper. Her mouth and throat were dry and sore. Speaking only made the pain worse.

A buzz sounded from above her forehead. The noise stopped, then restarted, then stopped again. A click and a thud followed the buzz. She held still in the silence before the gentle hum returned.

Soon, she heard a distant clunking. Footsteps. Boot soles against loose metal gratings. Then a metallic groan brought a chill to her shoulders. It sounded like a heavy, unoiled door opening. A slam followed, very close and very loud. She lay frozen, straining to hear anything else over the quiet hum.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Bedford.” The voice came from somewhere near her feet. She immediately recognized the speaker: Agent Jack Ellzey.

“W-What’s going on?” Again, speaking caused her pain. If only she could have a sip of water or even a drop on her tongue or lips.

“A test. We’ve been monitoring your condition. There were some doubts you would wake up.” Ellzey’s voice lacked the sarcasm and mocking she was used to hearing.

“Test? What happened? Why is it so dark?”

“The lights are off to neutralize your abilities. What you can’t see, you can’t hurt. At least that’s the theory.”

“Why?”

Ellzey didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “I have some questions.”

“Please, it h-hurts. I can’t—” Alex’s voice broke mid-sentence. She tried to swallow but her throat refused to cooperate. Tears of frustration formed in her eyes. “Can I have water? Please.”

“Do your loyalties lie with the Cheyenne Directorate or with your father?”

It took her a moment to respond. “What?”

“We can try something easier if you’d like.”

There it is. Same old Ellzey.

She had the sudden desire to try to fight against her restraints, to break free and find Ellzey and strike him. “My dad… He’s in charge of the Directorate,” she said, keeping her voice under control. “What’s the difference?”

“General Bedford was in charge of the Directorate. In case you haven’t noticed, he’s not doing much in the way of leadership these days. Then again, that isn’t a great step down from the rest of your chain of command.”

“He’ll take command again when he wakes up.”

“I’ll rephrase the question. If your father was removed from his position as the Directorate’s commander and you received two conflicting sets of orders, one set from your father and one set from your father’s replacement, whose orders would you follow?”

“What does it matter?”

“Answer the question.”

“Go to hell.”

“You’re not helping to inspire our trust.”

“Trust? We’re on the same side.”

“The Committee believes you’re on your father’s side.”

“It’s the same—” She tried to shout but her voice cracked and broke. She balled her hands into fists, feeling pain as her nails dug into her palms. “It’s the same thing.”

Ellzey sighed. “Perhaps you really are naïve enough to believe that. Close your eyes.”

The darkness exploded into white before she could react. Alex shut her eyes but the light penetrated her lids. She waited, blinking while her eyes watered and adjusted to the brightness. Slowly, she made out a curved panel arched above her face. She shifted her eyes down. A cylindrical enclosure surrounded her from head to toe. A white hospital gown had replaced her combat uniform.

The mattress jolted like a car racing off from a stoplight. Then slowly, the platform holding the mattress drew her out from the cramped cylinder toward a bright light at her feet. Again, it took her eyes a moment to adjust. She was in a room with a gunmetal grey ceiling and walls. Fluorescent lights hung above but the space was otherwise empty.

Ellzey stood in the opposite corner of the room. He wore a night vision monocular connected to a harness on his head. As she watched, he removed the harness and set it into his cargo pocket. They stared at each other for a long moment before Ellzey approached.

“Hold still. If you try anything, the lights go off, and I’ll leave you here.”

He put his hands to both sides of her head. She heard a click, and the pressure against her skull went away. She leaned her head to one side. The vertebrae of her neck cracked loudly, the first pleasant thing she had felt since waking up. Ellzey undid the restraints one-by-one until she was free. He walked away and then returned with a Styrofoam cup.

“Can you sit?”

She tried. Each movement brought pain as if someone were poking her with a handful of needles and dragging a hot iron across her upper body. She planted her elbows against the mattress in an attempt to push herself up but she was too weak. It was then she noticed the frailness of her arms. They were thin as if she had lost half her weight. She recalled the Directorate’s propaganda videos, the ones showing the New England Alliance’s prison camps where men and women resembling walking corpses served as slave labor until they died of starvation and dehydration. To her surprise, Ellzey helped her into a sitting position.

Ellzey held the cup out to her. She found enough strength to take the cup and put it to her parched lips. The feeling of the water sloshing in her mouth and then traveling down her throat was enough to block out the pain in the rest of her body. She closed her eyes, sighed, and then took another drink until the cup was empty.

“Thank you,” she said.

He took the cup and set it aside.

“Where’s my team?” Her voice remained hoarse but she could now speak with only a slight ache.

“Safe in Topeka. They arrived yesterday after we evacuated you from Kansas City.”

“Then where am I? What happened in Kansas?”

“Our location is classified. As to what happened… First, tell me what you remember.”

She looked down at her lap, at her skeletal hands and fingers. The memories remained jumbled and it was difficult to concentrate. But, slowly, it came back. The night sky above Kansas City, the fiery glow beyond the skyscrapers, and the columns of smoke rising toward the stars. She closed her eyes and was back on the overpass. A young man plunged a knife into his throat. The world turned red. Gunfire all around her but the bullets deflected back at the attackers. Explosions, screams, and blood. A man’s flesh tore free from his body and left him as a uniformed sksleton.

And Shepherd. Blood oozed from a cut on his face. Her focus was on the wound but his brown eyes, the crow’s feet wrinkles, and tanned skin were all vivid and in focus. Suddenly, the cut deepened and poured blood. His cheek boiled. The skin reddened as fleshy blisters formed and popped. Shepherd screamed. It was what saved him.

Shepherd held her against his vest. She was trembling. Her body was on fire. She looked up at the sky. Everything went white.

Alex opened her eyes. Ellzey stared at her. “What do you remember?”

She wanted to shut away the memories, to block everything out, but it was no good. Shepherd’s screams and the stench of his skin burning stayed with her. And the NEA soldiers, too. They’re our enemies, but… but that…

“What happened?” she said, finally.

Ellzey continued to stare. There’s something he isn’t telling me. It’s the reason I’m here locked up in the dark.

“Well?”

“To put it simply, the Directorate’s efforts to restore Kansas City have experienced a significant… set back.”

“What do you mean?”

“You destroyed Kansas City. We could have dropped a nuke for less effect. And, aside from me and your team, you killed every single person within five miles of that overpass.”

She hesitated. “You mean we stopped the NEA?”

“Yes, mission accomplished!” Ellzey beamed a wide smile. “Although I should add that none of the Directorate’s forces made it out either.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. “No.”

“Yes.”

Alex felt numb. She was back in Kansas City. She saw a flash of a soldier splitting apart. His skin and muscles fell away in long, bloody strips as his organs dissolved into a gory soup. But the soldier was not with the NEA. He was wearing a Directorate uniform, and he was far away from the overpass. He was young, barely above the age of conscription, and he was screaming. The sound was like an animal falling into a slaughterhouse grinder. Then the cry turned into a sharp wail and cut off as his vocal cords tore apart.

She shut her eyes and leaned forward. “I never saw any of our soldiers. It was only the NEA.”

“So what do you propose happened?”

“It was the NEA. It had to be.”

“Would you like to know what we found in Kansas City? We sent in some drones, took some pictures. The images are high resolution. You can see the bodies in the streets. You can read the nametapes off their uniforms. Really, in most cases, the uniforms are about all that’s left. That and bones. I’m not just speaking about the men you killed on that overpass, but every single soldier in the city, both ours and theirs.”

“How do you know they didn’t have a ‘kinetic? What about Webb? We never found him after he escaped. He could have found his way back to the NEA. It could have been him.”

“There’s no evidence the NEA deployed a ‘kinetic into Kansas City.”

“It couldn’t have been me. It wasn’t me.”

“If it makes you feel better, no one expected your outburst to be quite so… spectacular. I only wonder what would happen if you had more than one source to drain.”

“Drain?”

“I gave you a little boost with that kid. Call it a sacrifice for the good of the Directorate. After all, casualties or not, we did stop the NEA dead in their tracks!”

“Sacrifice,” Alex repeated. “This is your fault. You caused this. None of this would have happened—”

“The Committee is quite pleased with me for keeping you out of enemy hands.”

Alex felt sick to her stomach and noticed her hands were numb and shaking. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“I’m sorry?”

“If I… If I really killed all those people… That’s more people dead than all the casualties since the war started. All because of what? Some kind of test?”

“It was far more than a test.”

“I don’t care what it was! I was there to help defend the city, not kill our own soldiers!”

“You can wallow in self-pity later. This isn’t the time. Someone very important would like to see you, and I would prefer not to keep him waiting. Can you walk?”

Alex glared at Ellzey. He met her eyes. He did not blink or show any signs of worry, just a look of impatience a babysitter might give an unruly child. She looked down at the floor. She felt she was sitting on the edge of a cliff. Could she even support her own weight? She turned until her legs dangled off the mattress and then edged forward until her feet touched the cold floor. She looked at Ellzey. He gave her an impatient gesture as if to say, “Hurry up.” She put her weight on her feet and stood.

Her legs collapsed, and she toppled to the floor on her elbows and knees. Ellzey sighed. “I’ll take that as a no.” Alex pushed herself up into a sitting position. She was more embarrassed than hurt. Ellzey stood above her. She refused to look up at him. “Get up. I’m not going to carry you, and I have better things to do than go find a wheelchair.”

Asshole, she thought.

She managed to get back on her feet by using the edge of the mattress as support. Her legs held steady but she doubted she could walk far without stopping to rest. “Let’s go,” she said spitefully. Ellzey grinned.

They left the room and entered into a dim hallway lined with bulkhead doors. The walls and ceiling were painted with faded and flaking white paint. Rusted metal pipes ran along the ceiling with smaller tubes branching off toward the walls and then curving down into the floor. The smell was dank like the lower concourse of the bus terminal in New York.

Ellzey moved down the corridor at a quick pace. Alex lagged behind. She occasionally stopped for a moment to rest, leaning against the wall and feeling the rough layers of paint against her fingers. They soon reached an unmarked door, which Ellzey opened before gesturing inside. Alex edged past him and looked around. The room reminded her of a jail cell with a single-person bed jutting from the wall and a simple metal desk with two chairs occupying one corner. A closet-like latrine connected to the room by an open doorway.

Ellzey gestured at a locker near the desk. “I suggest you get changed unless you want to meet the chairman in that hospital gown. You have five minutes. I’ll be outside.”

Ellzey left and closed the door. Chairman? Does he mean the Committee? The Chairman of the Executive Committee wants to see me? She had never met a member of the Committee – the old men, as her father called them. Even he rarely spoke to them face-to-face, and those meetings never took place in Cheyenne Mountain but at some secret location he disappeared to for days at a time, leaving General Lunde in charge.

She hobbled to the locker and found a Directorate uniform inside. She withdrew the clothes and boots and took them to the bathroom where she washed her face in the sink and changed quickly. The uniform was her normal size but it felt large over her emaciated frame. She looked in the mirror. The skin of her face was tight over her bones and near white. Her cheeks and eyes were sunken, and it seemed her steel-blue irises had become a ghostly grey. She hoped it was only an effect of the artificial lighting.

She left the bathroom and sat on the bed. What happened to you? This is worse than after you got shot, and you’ve only been out for what…? A day?

A knock came to the door. Alex waited, but no one entered. A second knock followed. “Come in.”

The door opened.

At first, she didn’t see the man standing in the hall. His clothes were completely black, a collared shirt tucked into his slacks. He was young, perhaps in his mid-thirties. His prominent jaw and sharp, pale blue eyes suggested authority. A golden band with a smooth black gemstone decorated the ring finger of his right hand. She felt strangely vulnerable under his gaze.

Alex began to stand but he smiled and gestured for her to stay seated. “Please, there’s no need. I know how tired you must feel.” He offered her his hand. She stared at the black gemstone and her reflection in its polished surface. Part of her wanted to touch the stone, to feel it beneath the tips of her fingers, but after a moment, she reached out and shook his hand.

“My name is Randall Lewis. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He went to one of the chairs and sat. “I’ll get right down to it. First, allow me to apologize for how you’ve been treated so far. There were doubts we could trust you.”

“Are you with the Committee?” Alex said.

“Yes.”

“Does everyone know I’m okay?”

“Colonel Harrison has been informed that you are in our care.”

“What about General Lunde? Is he all right?”

“He’s recovering at Peterson’s hospital. His condition is stable.”

She appreciated Lewis’s willingness to answer her questions. It was a pleasant change from Ellzey. She had always imagined the Committee as a group of serious, dour men in tailored business suits sitting around a table in a dark room. But Lewis was young and seemed friendly and laid-back, like someone she could trust.

“Now, I’m sure you’d like to get back home. All I need is for you to answer a few questions, and we’ll be able to get you on your way.”

“Okay.”

Lewis smiled. “Let me begin by asking you about your meeting with General Martin. What did the two of you discuss? Did he tell you anything significant?”

General Martin? After everything that just happened in Kansas City, he wants to talk about General Martin?

The question put her on alert. “He told me a lot of things.”

“Such as?”

New York seemed like so long ago, although, she realized, it had only been just over a month. She remembered standing at the window in Martin’s office, staring out at the rainy city. She recalled the lights, the magnificent buildings she had seen only in pictures, and the silhouette of Martin’s helicopter disappearing into the black storm clouds. She wanted to go back there, to the edge of that roof even with the rain and the lightning and thunder. She wanted to see those buildings again, as if they could somehow erase everything that had happened since that day.

She answered, “He told me he and my dad used to know each other.”

“Is that all he told you?”

“No.”

“You can trust me. There’s no harm in answering these questions.”

“Did you ask my dad about General Martin?”

“Yes, we did.”

“Did he tell you anything?”

“Unfortunately, he did not.”

“I’m not going to betray him by telling you anything he wouldn’t have told you himself.”

Lewis’s smile disappeared. Alex tried to read his face, searching for annoyance or anger, but there was only a blank stare. Then she saw something in his eyes – they had changed. The ghostly blue irises were alive, glimmering like distant stars. She felt frozen. It seemed he was studying her as if she were a worm ready for dissection on a Petri dish. Her heart began to beat heavily in her chest while a cold sweat formed on her brow. She wanted to run, to escape the room and flee, but she couldn’t move.

She saw herself sitting on the bed, staring straight ahead. She seemed to be looking through Lewis’s eyes. A gentle, heartbeat-like pulse replaced the sounds in the room. She felt calm and wondered why she had been so hesitant to answer Lewis’s questions. After all, he’s with the Committee. He’s on my side. He’s one of the leaders of the Directorate. I can trust him.

She saw her lips move apart as if about to speak. She no longer looked nervous. She appeared serene and at ease.

She heard herself say, “General Martin told—”

The calm shattered. For an instant, she saw her eyes staring ahead. Except instead of the familiar blue, they were pitch-black. Then she heard a faint whispering and saw a flash of red. The room distorted out of focus and vanished.

She was moving forward, pushed by a great stream within a tunnel full of red, doughnut-shaped objects. The walls of the tunnel appeared organic with a surface texture resembling skin. Off in the distance, a glistening black mass that looked like a snake or eel moved toward her down the tunnel. As the darkness drew nearer, rows of emaciated tendrils formed along its surface. The skeletal strands reached out and grabbed at the red doughnuts, transforming them into sickly grey shells rapidly discarded like trash. As she watched, the coil grew and shed a murky substance that filled the tunnel with an expanding inky black cloud.

Her interest turned to horror as she realized the darkness was bearing down on her. She tried to turn and flee, but the current held her in its grasp. She could not escape. One of the foremost tendrils reached out and took hold of her. Immediately, dark lines crept into the edges of her vision and expanded inward. She wanted to scream but couldn’t. Then everything disappeared.

The vision faded as her perspective returned to the cramped room. She was sitting on the bed. The blank expression on Lewis’s face was gone. He looked taken aback and in awe.

What just happened? What was all that?

Lewis glanced at his right hand, at his ring, and then back at her. “If I told you that we could help your father, would you be more willing to answer my questions?”

Nothing in his voice hinted anything out of the ordinary had happened. The strange glimmer in his eyes was gone, and his expression was again one of calm neutrality.

Maybe I imagined it. Already, the vision seemed less vivid, like a far off memory. But what was it, anyway? Did anything actually happen? Did—

“Ms. Bedford?” Lewis said.

She found it difficult to arrange her thoughts. Something was nagging at her, insisting something strange had happened only moments earlier. But she could no longer remember what that strange thing had been; it was blurry, like a dream all but forgotten upon waking. Don’t worry about it. Just focus on what’s happening right now.

“Is there something wrong?” Lewis said.

Slowly, Alex shook her head. “You… said something about helping my dad?”

Lewis smiled. “Yes.”

“You can help him wake up?”

He nodded. “We have certain medicines and procedures available. We can send supplies and doctors to Peterson at a moment’s notice.”

“Why haven’t you done that already?”

“Your father’s refusal to cooperate with the Committee has created some ill will. With that said, if you help us, I promise we’ll do all we can to help him recover.”

Alex frowned. After New York, Ellzey had attempted to interrogate her about the mission. Her father had commended her for refusing to answer Ellzey’s questions. If he didn’t want her talking to Ellzey, then he certainly didn’t want her revealing anything to the Committee. But things are different now. The doctors haven’t been able to do anything. If there’s a chance that I can get Dad some real help, then I have to take it.

“All right,” Alex said. “I’ll tell you what you want to know, but if you’re lying about being able to help my dad…”

“I promise, I’m not lying to you.”

“General Martin said he used to know my dad. He talked about Antarctica. He said they were working there on a project. He said they found an artifact that had something to do with the outbreaks.”

“Is that everything?”

“Right before General Martin took off in his helicopter… he told me my dad saw something in the artifact.”

“What did your father see?”

“He said… General Martin said it was my mother.”

“You’re absolutely certain of this?” Lewis asked, leaning forward. “Did your father actually tell General Martin that he saw your mother?”

“I… I don’t know. Why? Is it important?”

“Did your father confirm General Martin’s information?”

“Some of it. I told him about what General Martin said, but… that’s not what we ended up talking about.”

“But did your father confirm he saw your mother in the artifact?”

“I never mentioned it to him.”

Lewis settled back in his chair. “I see. There’s one more thing. And this is the Committee’s primary concern. We need to know your complete loyalty lies with the Directorate and its command structure. Not with any individual, be it your father or General Lunde.”

“Agent Ellzey already—”

“You never gave him a clear answer.”

“You said you could help my dad. So if he wakes up, he’ll be back in command.”

“Do you know who’s currently in military command of the Directorate?”

“General Lunde.”

“General Lunde is still recovering. He’s in no condition to lead a war.”

“Are you saying Colonel Harrison is in charge?”

“That’s correct.”

“But that’s only temporary.”

“The Committee hasn’t been pleased with General Lunde’s performance. We don’t feel he’s fit to lead the Directorate.”

“That isn’t what my dad thought.”

“And there is the problem. You want us to help your father but you’re not willing to trust our judgment.”

“So what do you want me to do?” Alex said with irritation.

“We’ve been in contact with Colonel Harrison for some time, and we appreciate his willingness to cooperate with the Committee. He will assume control of the Directorate.”

“What about my dad?”

“We’ll see he recovers. However, when he wakes up, he will not reassume his position. He’ll quietly retire and stay out of the public eye.”

Alex was angry. She felt like shouting at Lewis. Instead, she said in a slow, controlled voice, “My dad built the Directorate. You wouldn’t have anything if it weren’t for him. There wouldn’t be a Committee.”

“Your father has forgotten that we – the Committee – control the Directorate. Not the military.”

“So what? If I try to fight this, then you won’t help my dad?”

“Your father has done quite a bit for us. But it’s time for him to pass on the torch. He’s held command for sixteen years. Frankly, we’re being more than fair. We’re giving you your father back. The Directorate will still exist, and its mission will remain the same.”

“So all I have to do is… what? Just say I’ll cooperate?”

Lewis reached into his pants pocket and withdrew a velvet case. He handed it to Alex. She took the case and opened it. Two polished silver stars sat inside.

“Deliver those to Colonel Harrison. I have a letter for him as well.”

He’s serious. They’re putting Harrison in charge of the Directorate. She shook her head. The idea was unpleasant. Harrison was high-strung and often disagreeable. Furthermore, he seemed to think she didn’t have what it took to be part of a combat unit.

“Why me?”

“It shows you’re willing to accept our decision and that you support Colonel Harrison as the Directorate’s new commander. Once you give him this letter, he’ll contact us. We’ll understand that as a signal of your cooperation.”

“And you’ll help my dad?”

“Yes.”

She again looked at the polished stars. “And what happens to me? Agent Ellzey said… I killed everyone in Kansas City.”

“The incident was unfortunate but… beyond your control. If you’re afraid of punishment, you have nothing to worry about. That said, we will be recalling your unit to Peterson while we deal with the NEA.”

Is it as simple as that? All those people… and it’s all okay because it was beyond my control?

“So I’m supposed to go hide while our soldiers are getting killed? I went to Kansas City to try to help and now you want me to run away?”

“You needn’t worry about the Directorate suffering any more casualties.”

“We’re fighting a war. How are you going to make sure no one on our side gets killed?”

Lewis smiled. “Let me show you.” He stood from his chair and pointed to the velvet case. “Don’t forget that.”

She closed the case and put it in her pocket.

“We have a bit of a climb. I can call help if you like.”

Alex shook her head and stood. They left the room, and Lewis set off toward a bulkhead door near a sign that read: STAIRWELL.

A small landing waited immediately beyond the doorway. Steep and narrow flights of metal steps extended up and down for as far as she could see. Parallel lines of brown, rusted pipes rose up through each of the landings. Fire extinguishers clung to the walls next to the bulkhead doors on each floor while numerous signs warned of electrical hazards and other safety concerns.

Lewis went up the first flight of stairs. He turned back and gestured for Alex to follow. Hesitantly, she put her hands on both railings and began to climb, watching her feet to make sure she wouldn’t trip and fall on the narrow steps. Her sore legs slowed her progress. Was this how Martin had felt in New York while she and Webb struggled to support his tired and broken body up the endless flights of stairs?

They continued up for two landings until they reached a corridor ending in a bulkhead door. She smelled a distinct, salty odor. The ocean? Are we on the coast?

Lewis went to the door, disengaged the locking lever, and then swung it open. The smell of ocean water intensified, accompanying the patter of rain.

Lewis stepped through the doorway, allowing Alex to see a grey steel deck and a sky filled with low-hanging dark clouds. Beyond the deck, the ocean stretched out to the horizon. The choppy waters churned with crashing waves and white froth. As Alex followed Lewis, she looked up into the sky and felt the fresh breeze. She took a deep breath of the salty air and wondered if she was on a harbor or dock. Then she realized there was no shore, no land anywhere in sight, only water on all sides. Rows of black, crab shell-shaped aircraft to her left and right extended in long lines to the edges of the deck. The aircraft lacked cockpits or identifying marks and vaguely reminded Alex of old stealth attack bombers.

When she turned back, she saw the bulkhead door was part of a tower extending far above the deck. The levels of the tower were full of windows, railings, and catwalks with white spheres mounted everywhere like giant golf balls driven into the gunmetal grey steel. Fluorescent bulbs outlined a huge number “76” painted on the wall.

“Welcome to the USS Ronald Reagan,” Lewis said.

“B-But how? This is an aircraft carrier. From before the outbreaks. I never knew we had anything this… big.”

“This warship’s existence is one of our best-kept secrets.”

The strange aircraft along the flight deck blended in with one another, sucking in the light around them and distorting the ship and sky along their smooth curves. She went to the closest aircraft and studied her reflection in the glossy finish. The tip of the aircraft’s nose rose just above her shoulders. “What are these?” she said.

“UCAVs: unmanned combat aerial vehicles. They are what we’re going to use to push back the NEA. We have forty-seven of them here on the Reagan.”

Alex placed her hand on the aircraft. A static surge went through her palm and into her body. But she kept still, staring into the darkness, into her reflection. For an instant, her eyes were not steel- or even pale-blue, but absolute black. She turned away.

“They’re drones?” she said.

“We control them from this ship without placing our personnel at risk. We set their mission parameters, and they execute their tasks autonomously.”

“Why haven’t you used them yet?”

“We’ve been waiting for an opportune moment.”

“So, when are you going to send them out?”

“Very soon.”

“And after that?”

“We have enough drones to launch constant sorties against the NEA. We’ll pursue them back to the East Coast and then begin bombing the areas under their control.”

“But not everyone in those areas is part of their military. You’ll be attacking civilians.”

“We’ll do what’s necessary to win. If the NEA surrenders, we’ll call off our attacks.”

Can the Committee end the war that easily? she wondered as she looked out at the choppy waters. Can they really help Dad?

She wanted to trust the Committee. After all, they represented the ultimate authority behind the Directorate. Yet it was clear there were things her father had kept hidden from Chairman Lewis and the others, things that seemed to concern her and her abilities.

“What am I supposed to do?” she murmured, almost unaware she was speaking aloud.

“How do you mean?”

“You’re going to send me back home, right?”

“That’s correct. We can arrange a flight to any of the Directorate’s outposts.”

“How am I supposed to go back? If I really killed all those people… our people. Our soldiers.”

“No one has been told about your involvement. We’ll inform Harrison, of course. Beyond him, no one will know.”

“So I should cover everything up?”

“The Committee feels it would in your best interest.”

“Doesn’t everyone have a right to know what happened?”

“Weigh the consequences and decide for yourself,” Lewis said, casually, and then started toward the port side of the carrier before gesturing her to follow.

A metallic whir asserted itself over the patter of rain. Alex looked around and spotted what looked like two giant pairs of hands, each with three thin, black fingers pointed inwards, rising from the carrier. It took her a moment to realize the shapes were the folded rotors of an aircraft. Soon, she recognized the familiar profile of a V-22 Osprey. The plane’s wings hung over the fuselage, with one nacelle suspended out beyond the cockpit and the other just in front of the two tail fins.

Lewis reached the Osprey just as the flight elevator finished its ascent. The door behind the cockpit slid open, and a man dressed in a flight suit appeared in the entranceway and hopped onto the deck.

“Ms. Bedford, this is Chief Reynolds. He’ll be the pilot for your flight back.”

“Ma’am,” Reynolds said. “Do we have a flight plan, sir?”

Lewis looked at Alex. “Would you like to be taken back to Peterson or Topeka?”

“Where’s my team?”

“As of an hour ago, they were still in Topeka. Colonel Harrison is there as well.”

“Then that’s where I want to go.”

“You got it,” Reynolds said and climbed back into the aircraft.

Alex and Lewis returned to the superstructure. She watched the Osprey as the wings rotated ninety degrees counterclockwise and then locked down into flight position. The two nacelles turned upwards in a slow arc until both hung in the vertical position with the tips of the rotor assemblies pointing toward the sky. The rotor blades themselves unfolded next, completing the transformation from storage to flight configuration.

“You said you had a letter for me to give Colonel Harrison?”

Lewis withdrew a folded envelope from his jacket and handed it to her. She placed it in her pocket next to the velvet case.

“I’m only doing this because you said you’d help my dad.”

“I understand, but remember, we expect your complete loyalty. We may have a task for you in the near future. We’ll expect you to carry it out just as you would a directive from your father.”

“What task?”

“The Committee is working out the details.”

Alex gave Lewis an uncertain nod and then looked past him. The Osprey taxied from the flight elevator to the center of the flight deck. When the aircraft stopped again, the cockpit door slid open and Reynolds leaned out and waved.

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” Lewis said.

She walked away without replying. When she reached the doorway of the aircraft, she paused and looked back. Lewis stood in place, watching her. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Alex put one of her hands on the Osprey’s fuselage and climbed inside.

“Welcome aboard, Ma’am,” Reynolds said from the pilot’s chair. “If you’ll take a seat in the back, we’ll get going.”

Alex went to the cabin and sat next to one of the compartment’s windows. An equipment rack hung from the opposite wall. Her gear from Kansas City was there: her ballistic vest and helmet, her hydration pack, and her thigh holster with the grip of her handgun sticking out.

Outside, the turboprops of both nacelles whirred to life. The aircraft shook as the rotor blades blurred together. Alex looked out the cabin windows. As she watched, the carrier deck fell away and disappeared.

A dark form soon approached from the east: one of the UCAVs from the Reagan. The drone arrived at the Osprey’s side and followed with eerie grace, matching their speed and mimicking every slight adjustment in direction or elevation.

She stared at the drone and imagined formation of them flying above the NEA’s cities: Boston, New York, Washington. They would rain bombs and missiles on ancient buildings and structures, and people. How had the skyline of Kansas City looked upon their arrival? Beautiful towers of glass and steel and concrete. Now all of that was gone. Shattered skyscrapers and collapsed buildings, streets full of bodies, thousands of men and women who had died screaming as their flesh and muscle ripped away.

It wasn’t me. It’s not possible… It couldn’t have been. But then the memories surged back. The high-pitched, guttural screams of death. Those soldiers had been the enemy, and she had slaughtered them like cattle, had killed even those who had dropped their weapons and fled. In New York, she had brought down an apartment building to take out a sniper. But she had never seen the man, had never acknowledged to herself that she had used her abilities to kill another human being. And she had done it again less than an hour later, collapsing the roof beneath an RPG gunner firing on the team. She had taken those actions in self-defense. But I killed them. I took a life. And in Kansas City, I took thousands. What does that make me?

Lightning brightened the sky. The arc cast the escort drone into relief and turned it into a specter of death rather than a machine of war. Alex leaned her head against the cabin wall and closed her eyes.

“What did I do?” she whispered, her voice inaudible over the Osprey’s engines. “What did I do?”